Loving An Alcoholic

Some of you may think you know my story but you only know some of it. I wrote a lens called The Story Of Us a while back. It tells of how I met my husband and how we have survived a teenage pregnancy and a very young marriage. It also tells you how we overcame a lot to be together but it is only half of the story. I was not ready at that time to be completely transparent with the full nature of our 'hardships'. I have started this lens more than once but deleted it. I wanted it to be right and I wanted to know for sure that I could write it with honesty, compassion, and love. With my husband's permission, I am ready to dig a little deeper and give you more of the story. I hope that it helps someone, somewhere that may be going through the same thing.

I'm not really sure where to start with this so I will go back to where I think it started...our first year of marriage. My husband was in the Marines. We all know that soldiers love their beer and my husband was no different. He is just shy of 140 lbs but he can hold his own with the best of them. I hardly ever drank. I hate the taste of beer and I didn't go out much. I had a one year old. I was a young mother and we struggled. There were times that we couldn't pay the light bill but there was always enough money for him to go out and have a drink with the boys.

As time went on, things got harder. The harder life got, the more Roger wanted to get out of the house. He wanted to escape all of out problems and drown his sorrows in a can of Miller Light...his beer of choice. I was angry. I wanted him home. I wanted him to provide for us. I wanted him to stop putting himself, his friends, and his beer before me and our daughter. I got mean and jealous. I became untrusting. I questioned his every move. I then became full of self-pity. I blamed myself for him not wanting to be home. I tried to be a better wife, hoping I could keep him from leaving. I was desperate. I needed him and he left every time. I was losing him. After some time, I had an 'ah ha' moment.

It wasn't my fault...

I didn't make him leave...

He chose to do it and there was nothing I could do about it. That is when I decided that the only person who could help me was me. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and act like an adult.

Over the next few years, Roger continually got worse but I kept my head down. I got a job at a daycare so that I could bring my daughter. I couldn't afford it otherwise. For two more years, we struggled as a family. There were times that I left but I always came back. I justified it by saying that he had a problem and I was his wife and I had a duty to stay by his side. I tried to change him but it never worked.

It took me a long time to realize that you cannot make an alcoholic, no matter how much you love them, change. They have to decide to do it on their own. I thought I could ride it out. I hoped and prayed everyday for him to stop. I had faith in him. We loved each other. We could make it through anything...well, almost anything.

It was now 2007. Roger full in full blown alcoholism mode but still in denial. He was gone almost every night. He always had a reason to leave...usually stumbling in at 3 or 4 am. One particular night, he came home and I was awake. I couldn't sleep. I had a need to confront him about his behavior. He didn't want to do anything except pass out but I wouldn't leave him alone. We got into an all out screaming match. He pinned me against the wall by my neck and spit in my face. I managed to get away to the other side of the room. I screamed at him some more as an ashtray flew by my head.

I didn't know what to think. He had never gotten physical with me before. I was in shock. Did he hate me that much?

I grabbed my phone and called the police and sat on the couch until they arrived. Roger was casually sitting in the bedroom. He didn't say a word to me.

The police showed up and I told them what happened. They took Roger outside. Keep in mind that by this time, we had three children sleeping in their rooms. Thank God that they never woke up.

The cops asked if I wanted him arrested. I said no. I loved him and I knew that being arrested would not be good on his record. To this day, I still can't believe that I was worried about what would happen to him. I asked that he leave. He called his mother to pick him up and he left.

The next day, it all seemed surreal. I couldn't believe what had happened. How could I forgive him now? How could we ever live together? I had had enough. Our marriage was over.

I had left in Sept 2007. In October, Roger contacted me and told me that he had stopped drinking...that he missed me and he was sorry. I wasn't falling for it. I had heard this before and he would stop drinking for a few days and start again. I told him we were over.

Over the next 7 months, Roger did everything he could to prove to me that he had changed. He went to AA meetings. He got a steady job. He took the kids on the weekends and actually did a good job. Before, I couldn't leave them with him for an hour without him getting frustrated. He was being a good father...something that I was taken aback by. I was still reluctant but my faith in him was growing.

You have to understand that this was the first time I was standing on my own two feet. I had gained my self-confidence again and it had taken me so long to break away from him. I didn't want my life to ever go back to what it had been. There was a problem though...I still loved him. I always had. I knew I always would. I had to make sure that he was committed to being sober for the rest of his life. He had taken the first step. He admitted to being an alcoholic and had stopped, cold turkey, on his own. He was back to acting like the boy I fell in love with. I made the decision to take him back and try to save our family one more time. It was the best decision I have ever made.

Roger is celebrating being sober for two years now. His outlook on life is brighter than ever and he has never been such a good husband and father. It just took time. Time that most people don't give their loved ones. Time that he needed to figure out that what he was doing was destructive to not just him, but his family. Time that I needed too; to realize that he had to stop on his own and he has to stay sober on his own. I cannot make him. I cannot protect him from life's trials. I can't keep him sober. All I can do is love and support him. We still struggle with life's everyday problems but we struggle together...and I wouldn't have it any other way.